


Before the Dawn

by mulderitsdee



Series: Our sister who cried when we stepped on ants [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Nightmares, Sibling Love, TW: Nightmares, TW: Vomit, and now Klaus is crashing on her sofa, au where they avoided the apocalypse by just like talking to Vanya, tw: PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mulderitsdee/pseuds/mulderitsdee
Summary: Three weeks after the apocalypse is narrowly avoided, Klaus is still sleeping on Vanya's couch. He has a nightmare, she's there for him.





	Before the Dawn

Vanya’s couch is too small for him, but he’s slept in worse places. It’s been nearly three weeks since the academy was destroyed and Klaus doesn’t know what he’s still doing here. Luther has been busy searching for a new house for them all along with Five, Diego has his boiler room flat, Allison has finally managed to go visit Clair thank God. And Klaus is still here, in Vanya’s apartment. At first it made sense to hang around, Vanya needed someone keeping an eye on her and Klaus was way too deep into withdrawal to even think about finding somewhere else to crash. Allison had offered to send him to a fancy rehab place while he rode it out, god bless her, but the thought had nearly made him throw up. Rather sweating on a couch his legs hang off than trying to explain to a room full of strangers why he keeps talking to a brother they can’t see. Once the dust had settled everyone started acting like they expected him to slip away in the night, go back to his old life bouncing between the streets, shitty motels, and one night stands. There’s a small surprised look on Vanya’s face most mornings, like she can’t believe he’s still there, and he finds it reflected in his own face. Frankly he can’t believe she hasn’t kicked him out yet, but he’s glad beyond words that she hasn’t. 

That may well change though, because tonight is the first night (that he knows of, at least) that she’s has to burst out of her room at 3am because Klaus is screaming bloody murder into her couch cushions. It was bad enough when it was just faceless ghosts screaming at him in the early hours, but now they’re mixed with soldiers he saw fall in Vietnam, and civilians too. Hazel and Cha Cha’s victims, mutilated and terrified and so, so loud. He’s killed now, he was a soldier, and the ghosts won’t ever let him forget it. Vanya doesn’t wake him up, but when he jerks so violently that he comes crashing off the sofa and into the coffee table his eyes fly open and he gasps like a man drowned. For a few moments he’s blind with terror, whimpering like a frightened child and pushing himself into the furthest corner of the room. Oh if only Sir Reginald could see him now-Number Four, all that potential and here he is: hyperventilating because of monsters under the bed. 

Vanya’s voice, soft and steady brings him down enough that he no longer feels like he’s going to pass out. If asked what she says Klaus couldn’t tell you, but she’s here, sat next to him until his vision clears and the hyperventilating settles down to only shaky breaths and shivering. He cries, and she doesn’t mention it, and there’s vomit on her apartment floor but she doesn’t mention that either. Eventually he’s calmed down enough that he can speak coherently, rather than just muttering terrified nonsense at the shadows. Vanya’s turned all the lights on, he realises numbly, that was good of her. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” it’s whispered like a mantra, like a prayer. To his sister and to the angry ghosts still lurking at the edge of the vision. He feels like a child again, except this time Reginald isn’t at the door of the mausoleum full of disappointment and disgust. This time there is Vanya, her hand on his shoulder as he tries not to fall apart completely. Instead of calling him childish or a coward she tells him she couldn’t sleep either and it might be a lie, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t care, either. With her help he stands, and she settles him on the sofa with a glass of water. Klaus doesn’t ask her to stay because he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches numbly while she cleans up the mess he’s made before settling down next to him and gently draping a blanket over his sweaty, still shivering form. 

“Thank you,” he manages eventually, and it’s strange to be thanking rather than apologising. Strange in a way that makes his heart ache for all the things they’ve both been through that’s led them to this point. Vanya just smiles that small, tired smile of hers and gently rests her head on his shoulder. Together, they watch the sun rise.


End file.
